In Another Place
by K. E. Holden
Summary: Even Ludwig is not immune to the terrors of war; he may train constantly, but there's nothing like the real thing. ((This will change, I just wrote the first chapter, and have no idea where this will be going. Gerita though. And I'll probably mention Spamano and Usuk and maybe Pruhun on the side.)) Rated T for safety right now.
1. Chapter 1

Ludwig closed his eyes; letting the roar of the plane engines block out everything around him. He tried to forget where he was, what he was doing; if only for a moment. He thought about home, his brother, his dogs, anything but the living hell this war really was. He was good at training, and good at war you might even say, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He kept trying to get away from it all, thinking until his ears rang, but nothing worked.

"Hey Lutz," one of his fellow fallschirmjager said, "got your head in the clouds again?"

Opening his eyes and shaking his head a bit to clear his mind, he looked over at his comrade; he was a man of about 24 years old, by the name of Ewald Zellweger, from a small rural town, carried a picture of his sweetheart on the inside of his helmet, and was still too innocent for war. He still believed in good people, and luck, and miracles, but Ludwig was sure that after this raid he would have his allusions shattered.

"Ja, ja, thinking again." He responded after a long silence.

"About home?" Ewald asked looking back down at his feet and clasping his hands together in his lap.

"Ja, what else do we ever think of?" He responded. It was true. In training he was all business; focused completely on training for their upcoming mission, memorizing attack routes, planning out strategies; but the minute training was over his mind was clouded over again by visions of home. He longed for Feliciano's cooking; hell, he even missed pasta. He missed all the little things: Feliciano sneaking table scraps to the dogs when he thought Ludwig wasn't looking; the feeling of waking up in a real bed, along with Feliciano's arms wrapped around him; the monotonous, gloriously monotonous, dregs of everyday life.

Ludwig was snapped back to reality again when, before Ewald could make another comment, their commander began shouting orders.

"Attention!" He shouted, "We'll be directly over the drop site in about one minute; time to line up!" And so all the men in the back of the plane un-latched their seat belts, swung on their parachutes, and got into position in front of the door they would soon be jumping out of.

It was about thirty seconds of dead silence until they heard their commander speak again, "You boys know the plan; do good out there, and I might see some of you for our next mission." And the door slid open with a crash and row by row they all jumped into battle.


	2. Chapter 2

A while ago, Feliciano and I's bosses signed the Rome-Berlin axis. It states that we both have similar political and economic goals but it also means that from now on, Feliciano and I will be training together. But to me, training with Feliciano really means sitting in a grassy field somewhere just outside the base together. We talk and Feliciano usually takes a nap, but over all, it's very nice.

Today was no different. Once everyone else had left for training, Feliciano and I left the base, him leading me by the hand as he prattled on and on about breakfast and how he thought the crepes were underdone and how he would have cooked them differently and "Oh Ludwig, I'll have to make them my way for you some time, I know you'd love mine!". The birds were singing, and the sky was blue, and with Italy holding my hand, I felt safe, and wonderful; at home.

Once he found a spot, we sat down together in the field, and there was a slight breeze, so the weather was very comfortable – I can never get over the weather in Italy – and Feliciano had chosen a spot with lots of wild flowers. The sun was bright, but cast an almost golden glow over the whole scene. Meanwhile, Feliciano was busy picking and weaving the flowers he found around us together to make a wreath of some sort, and I was just happy observing. He was so absorbed by his work that I wondered if he even noticed that occasionally I'd reach over to brush away the loose strands of hair that fell to hang in front of his eyes. I watched his nimble fingers braid the flower stems together, and the way his eyebrows came together in frustration when one of them broke or just wasn't cooperating. But he was ever patient and dedicated; his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. The whole scene was reminiscent of something I might have once enjoyed in my childhood; even the scenery seemed to fit in my hazy memory, but it's not too clear.

Occasionally I'd make the obligatory comment about how we should be back training with the others; that we were wasting time, but Italy would just silence me with a kiss and continue on with his wreath, smiling a bit at what I could only assume was a surprised expression on my face.

When he was finished making his wreath, he came over and straddled my lap, reaching up to place the object on my head. He smiled at his work, and then at me, before turning around to sit with his back against my chest.

"Hey Ludwig," Feliciano said, "Do you think there'll be a war?"

I took a while to answer, twirling a lock of Feliciano's hair between my fingers and humming softly I responded, "I think so. My boss is headed that way at least." I knew it wasn't the answer he wanted, and I didn't much like it either, but I couldn't lie to him.

"Oh" he replied getting a bit quieter. "Will I still get to see you?" He asked turning to look at me.

"Yes." It wasn't true. "We'll always be together." Another lie. Feliciano nodded, and I leaned forward to rest our foreheads together. He knew I was lying. But he knew I couldn't say the truth either.

That of course we wouldn't see each other, for months we'll be apart, we aren't allowed to correspond by mail, and our phone calls will be strictly business only, with our bosses right beside us, and it will feel lonely, and like torture, but we've don't it before, oh so many times before, so none of this needed to be said. We've lived for hundreds of years, why can't we be apart for a few months without feeling so much pain?

But like everything else, that doesn't need to be said, it's understood. So we don't talk about it.

Eventually it starts getting dark but we don't care. It's still warm out, and it's nice, with Feliciano laying on top of me, his elbows on either side of my head, he adds more flowers to what he's now dubbed my 'crown' because "Ve~ Ludwig you look like a Prince!" and every once and a while he'll place a few chaste kisses on my lips.

Never do we go any farther, never while we're technically 'on duty'. We're constantly out alone together and no one ever asks any questions because they all know who we are, but the one time we do anything, they will ask and do more, and I don't want Feliciano to deal with that. I have already, and I try to keep as much of it as possible away from Feliciano, but I know I can never keep him completely safe, and I know he's probably dealt with it already but it bothers me to think of anything like that ever touching him. He's so happy and cheerful, and nice to everyone he meets, that the thought of hate ever being directed at him, makes me grit my teeth and feel overwhelmingly protective of my precious Italian.

"Feliciano, we should head back now…" I begin, after he's finally decided that there are enough flowers in my 'crown' and has laid his head down to rest on my chest. Even having said this I make no move to push him off or get up, I simply continue stroking his hair softly and humming little bits of songs I can no longer remember.

"Can't we just" he replies with a sigh, "Stay here forever?"

I sit up now, careful to hold Feliciano on my lap so that he doesn't have to sit on the quickly cooling ground because of all things, he does not need the excuse of "Ve~ Ludwig but I think I caught a cold…" as another way to get out of training. And also because I just really like holding Feliciano close to me.

"You know we can't do that." I tell him and he nods. He understands what I don't need to say. That it's our duty, our job as nations, to train and work hard for our leader and our people. So we head back to base, and our separate bunks, and a war looming over our heads.


End file.
